Page 37 of The Royal Art of Revenge

CHAPTER EIGHT – FINN

The last time I saw my mother this distraught was when Francesca died.

Back then, I hadn’t fully understood it. I was only twelve, after all, and I’d never had to face any kind of loss myself. All I knew was that her friend had died, but my father’s explanation had changed my perception of their relationship.

He’d said there were three people in this world my mother would die for: him, me, and Francesca Sinclair. If he was her romantic soulmate, then Francesca was her platonic one. They’d been together their entire lives and losing her was to lose a piece of herself.

I remember how determined she’d been to find Francesca’s daughter, Harriet. How, despite there being a body presented to the Sinclairs as her and them burying her, they never believed it was actually Harriet. Everything happened so quickly, though, and even my mother couldn’t intervene at the time.

After Francesca died, she did everything she could to spark the investigation into Harriet’s disappearance. All I know is that nothing came of it.

The little girl who’d once helped me hide had, as my mother so perfectly put it not long ago, disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Still, she hoped. I knew she did. Everyone knew she had a piece of her heart left in that fight. Everyone knew that she refused to give up hope that one day, she’d come back.

And now, she had.

Inexplicably. Against all the odds.

Harriet Sinclair was here.

In our palace.

By chance.

Whatever led our paths to cross that day in the park must be a power far greater than anything I’ve ever encountered before. Until that day, I’d have told you it was an absolute impossibility for such a thing to come to pass.

“I’m going to kill him,” Mum says, finally looking up from between her fingers. “For two years that girl has been back in this city, and he didn’t say a word. He forced her to use another name and hid her away like a dirty little secret!”

“You don’t—”

“I do know.” She slaps her hands against the table and stares at me with her cheeks flushed. “I never liked him when Franny married him, and I still don’t like him now. I only ever tolerated him for her.”

“Why would he do that, though? She’s his daughter, and she was missing for twenty years. Why would he force her to use another name?”

“His wife.” She clenches her fist. “And that adopted daughter of theirs, Jasmine. She’s supposed to be announced as your fiancée at your birthday banquet, although I’ve made no arrangements for such a thing. With Harriet’s return, we would be well within our rights to request that the original terms of our agreement be met.”

“Meaning I’d marry Harriet instead,” I say slowly.

Fuck.

Well.

I can’t say I wouldn’t prefer that. There isn’t a single bone in my body that wants to marry Jasmine. I’ve always seen it as little more than my duty, something that I had to do. The Sinclairs are rich, after all, and their wealth would add a lot to the Royal House.

That’s another reason my mother has always carefully toed the line with them, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with anything.

Money talks, after all.

“Meaning you’d marry Harriet instead,” she echoes, pressing her hand to her mouth. “So, they kept her a secret. He’s certainly weaponising her trust fund. The way she looked at me when I suggested it told me everything.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Because I’m the one who set up the trust fund.” Her lips twitch. “I helped, at the very least. I’d be a trustee if I weren’t queen—it was deemed inappropriate, so only William was appointed, much to my chagrin. I tried to get a second trustee involved, but Rowan informed me that ‘I don’t like him’ wasn’t an acceptable reason, and I didn’t want to push it when Franny was so unwell. At the time, there was no reason to believe her father wouldn’t give her full access if she were to ever return. That’s how I know that the only condition is that Harriet must be twenty-one to access the money.”

“So, he’s breaking the law by withholding it and making her sign an agreement for access.”

“He certainly is. As Rowan said, the agreement itself may be void.” She sighs, clasping her hands together on the table. “Go and speak to her, Finn. Assure her we’ll do whatever we can for her, including hiring her legal representation to get what’s rightfully hers, if she so wishes. And find out everything you can—I need to know what happened to her.”